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Eliza felt another pair of eyes upon her.

She looked up. The Duke was watching her, and for the briefest moment, she thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch upwards at Henry's declaration before his expression settled once more into its familiar scowl.

Perhaps she had imagined it.

"Hush now," she said, with a gentle warning look shot to Henry.

"I'm going to miss you all with every fibre of my being."

Her own voice wavered ever so slightly.

"But remember what we practised?"

She opened her arms.

The children rushed towards her without hesitation.

Even Mary.

Reserved, sensible Mary, who at eleven stood far taller than the rest, wrapped both arms tightly around Eliza, enveloping the smaller children beneath her.

Eliza kissed each of their heads in turn before slowly rising to her feet, brushing the dust from the skirts of her white gown.

Mrs Didley gently guided the children back towards the second carriage.

"They will write to you tonight, and then every week thereafter," Mrs Didley promised quietly.

"And I will write back," Eliza returned the promise.

"I expect nothing less." Mrs Didley smiled though her eyes began to shimmer.

Eliza nodded, unable to trust herself to speak again.

She slipped her hand once more through the Duke's arm. She could still feel his eyes on her, though whether he was studying her or had failing patience for the moment to pass, she could not tell. Without a word, he helped her up into the carriage before climbing in after her, taking the seat astride from her.

With a firm click of the carriage doors, they were alone for the very first time.

Silence.

Thirty seconds.

A minute.

The carriage had hardly begun its journey before the silence became unbearable for Eliza, who now folded her hands neatly in her lap.

Someone had to speak, and she did not mind having to bridge the gap. Maybe he was just as nervous as she was.

"It was a beautiful ceremony," she said, putting a brave smile forward. "Thank you for making the arrangements."

Despite the carriage rocking over the gravel path leading away from the chapel, the Duke remained perfectly still. His back was straight, his shoulders squared, as though he had long ago learned how to ignore the discomfort. But the expression on his face spoke of a different pain altogether.

"Mr Ellis and my mother were responsible for the arrangements."

"Oh." She smiled anyway.

"They both have excellent taste."

He offered a curt nod as silence settled between them once more. She could not allow that; she hated silence.